Arrrrggh!!! Four short weeks to go until the big day!! No, not my wedding day~ that one’s been and gone~ but my 40th birthday!
When I excitedly started planning my ‘party of the year’ to roll in the naughty forties, I’d concentrated on the venue, the decoration colour scheme, the entertainment and food, the guest-list of fantastic best mates and finally … the outfit.
The outfit!! It was my last consideration amongst all elements of the big night, but I have chosen it at last!
Now all I have to do is actually diet ~yet again~ to fit into it…
Having forced myself to buy a size smaller than required, I operated on that age-old female theory that if you buy small, it’ll force you into an automatic “shrink to fit” mode physically and mentally. The mode where you dream of yourself living on carrot sticks and twiglets for the next month, but realise whilst you’re dreaming a double chocolate chip muffin and milkshake have ended up in your hands! How on EARTH did they get there???!
So there I stood in front of the mirror, packed into my dream party attire looking like a prize black pudding~ post fry-up , but with diaphanous sleeves ( oh that makes it look SO much better…!).
“Ooooh Grrd” I thought. “How am I EVER going to look all sleek and lovely in this within four weeks?”. My only consolation, as with many other ladies out there, is that I have been down this road so many times I’ve bought the book fifty times over, got the t-shirt and worn it to death. Then I ruin the glorious results within days after target completion by smugly laughing in the face of my sleekness and chow down on chips with frivolity!
Now it’s “that time ” again. Out come the dust encrusted tools to aid my starvation for the next month:
The Scales: A necessary evil to chart ‘inevitable’ progress. Every ounce of weight-loss counts at a time like this. This tool is perhaps one of the worst for inciting enormous highs and lows, cheers or boo’s, depending on the results. I shudder at the thought of seeing that digital display creeping up and out of control as it develops a metaphorical devil face, cackling cruelly at the invisible pack of lard on my hips this week. Equally though, euphoria and an involuntary lap of honour erupt around the bathroom for every hard-earned 2lbs I’ve lost. Shall i celebrate with a bar of Dairy Milk?? No NO No No!!! Think THIN!!
The Mirror Another invention from the Devil’s workshop of humiliation. Fantastic for aiding make-up application or eye-brow plucking, not so good for pointing out numerous spare tyres and a butt that’ll eclipse anything north of the equator. It’s times like this I could own ‘the thin one’ from the ‘Circus Hall of Magic Mirrors’. Encouragement is everything in this game… even if it means cheating a bit!
The Camera A necessary tool for charting all round progress. This usually ends up as a tool of sheer amusement. By the end of most diet stints I look back at my first few shots and realize I looked like Augustus Gloop, gradually mutating into a reject from Cell Block H. The shots when finally lined up usually resemble a gallery from The Usual Suspects . It makes me laugh so much I lose a few more pounds with the shaking! That in itself is a worthwhile exercise.
The Specialist Food( and drink of course). Oh this is the category which scares me the most. I must kiss my last marshmallow hot chocolate goodbye wistfully as I embark on four weeks of Dryvita and discipline. Woe is me as I throw away the cheese and potato pie I made only 2 days ago and replace it with ‘delicious’ lentil soup and rocket leaves (yum!?). Milkshakes, juice and Shiraz have to be replaced with Mineral water, diet coke and Gin with diet coke. Yurg.. not the greatest of swaps , but it’ll have to do!
Join me tomorrow as I record what happened today on Day 1 of my Not So Secret Diet Diary…. wish me luck!!
© Tess Egerton 2011